The Irony of the Cure
by bkay13
Summary: Elena is on the brink of taking the cure, but little does she know, the cure comes with a cost. What is Elena's humanity worth to Stefan and Damon and just what will they do for her...and for each other? The story takes place sometime after the Season Four Episode Twelve.
1. Chapter 1

The Irony of the Cure

***All rights belong to the owners and writers of The Vampire Diaries. This is my first Fanfic so review it and tell me what you think!***

Elena glances at the small little vial he held out to her. His eyes rise to meet hers, a curtain drawn across their depths. She can still feel his anticipation, though. It hovers in the air between them, almost suffocating. She takes the vial into her hands, wrapping her fingers around the little bottle.

"And to think," she says, holding the bottle up, "that this is all it takes to cure immortality." She gives a little smile, but it feels fake.

"All you have to do is drink it," Stefan says. His urgency is leaking into his words. He's been waiting for this, and that's what worries her. He's holding on too hard. She chooses not to acknowledge his impatience, instead asking a question.

"Where's Damon?"

Stefan shrugs. "You shouldn't wait for him, though," he says. "The sooner you take this, the better. That's all there is."

Elena tries to ignore the sharp stab of hurt. She had thought Damon had wanted to be there for this. But then again...maybe he was afraid. Maybe he was afraid that after she drank this, after she was human, that she wouldn't love him the same. Isn't that what she was afraid of, after all?

She suddenly realizes Stefan is staring at her. She jerks her gaze back up to meet his.

"I think.." she begins, slowly, rolling the bottle around between her fingertips, "that I need to be alone."

"To take the cure?" he asks, confused. "Elena, I..."

"Stefan, I want to be alone," she repeats, cutting him off. "And you need to respect my choice." Her words are firm, an echo of his promise from days of old. She sees the flash of recognition in his eyes, and her words do what she intended them to. He backs up a step.

"If that's what you really need," he concedes wearily.

"That's what I..." Her words are suddenly interrupted by the ringing of Stefan's cell phone. He pulls it out of his pocket, narrowing his eyes at what she assumes is the caller i.d.

"I'll see you later then?" he mouths as he brings the cellphone up to his ear. She is surprised by how easily he gave up, but nods her head quickly, seizing the opportunity to be alone while he has given it to her. He walks out the front door, listening intently to whoever was on the other line.

She then climbs the stairs, still clutching the bottle all the while. Stepping into her room, she allows her mind to embrace the possibility awaiting her. The possibility of being human again.

She would never admit this to Stefan, but there is a part of her that doesn't even want this. Doesn't want to give up her vampirism. There is a brilliance to it, a feeling of vitality and freedom she had never experienced beforehand. And, as she had thought earlier, she's scared. Her love for Damon feels real. But will it be real once she's human again? Will it feel the same? Will it be as fiery bright, as all consuming? She can't know.

But on the other hand, she misses her humanity. She wants to feel without breaking; she wants to live without the constant worry, the constant thirst. She wants Damon to know, once and for all, that they are real. That was she feels isn't sire bond created. And she needs to do this for Stefan too. He will never be free of her if she doesn't.

She brings the bottle to her mouth, and takes her last drink as a vampire.


	2. Chapter 2: Expectations

Chapter 2: Expectations

***I'm still really new to this so if you take the time to review, I'd really appreciate it! Hope you like it.***

Stefan pulls his cellphone up to his ear, mouthing goodbye to Elena as he steps out the door.

"It's about time," he says impatiently to Damon. "Where have you been?"

The reply to his question throws him off-kilter almost immediately, because the voice that answers isn't Damon. It's like getting a face full of ice water...expecting one thing and then receiving another.

"Damon's been with me," a voice smiles on the other end. The words are lyrical, smooth.

The shock has taken Stefan's breath away. Air lodges in his chest.

"Who are you?" he finally asks. To his surprise his words sound calm, edged with something slightly forceful. "And why do you have my brother's cellphone?"

"You don't know?" the voice asks with a hint of glee.

Stefan's jaw tightens, his thoughts racing at a million millions an hour. He feels a sudden flash of dread, but he when he replies, his voice is steady. "Know what?"

"Oh, the irony," the voice replies, laughing slightly. "Remember how, once upon a time, you paid, quite literally, for a cure for your brother?"

Stefan stands, his shoulders going stiff, his breath the only sound across the line.

"Well," the man continues, "now your brother is paying for a very different cure. The cure that you believe will return Elena to you, correct?"

There is a pause, the silence across the line stretching on and on.

"You have my brother?" Stefan finally asks.

"I have his cell phone," the man says conversationally. "You can draw conclusions from there."

"He would have told me," Stefan insists, knowing fully that Damon would do no such thing.

"I doubt that," the voice taunts. " But see, I'll play nice. I'll give you a chance. Better hurry, though."

"A chance for what?" Stefan demands, but the call ends before he gets a reply.

...

Damon hovers on the edge of the porch. He contemplates rushing through her door right then, grabbing her and demanding to know her answer to the question eating away inside him. He also contemplates turning away now, letting her seek him out. It would be easier that way after all. If enough time passed and she didn't come to him, her absence would be all the answer he needed.

Just the thought of her not returning to him is enough to make him start pacing, fast enough that it probably looks unnatural, but at the moment he doesn't care. She is driving him crazy. She always has, though, almost since the moment he met her on that stretch of road. She makes him feel things that he doesn't particularly know if he wants to feel but she also gives him no choice. He can't walk away from her.

He's pretty sure that's what scares him the most. He pretends he doesn't have a weakness, or at least tries to. But that's it...it's all just pretending. She is his weakness, his Achilles' heel. And he can't cut this weakness out, can't hide it, can't fix it.

If she turns those deep brown eyes of hers on him, if those eyes are full of sorrow and apology, full of pity...there will be no turning back. He will be destroyed by the one thing he loves most.

There will be no way to fix him.

He feels a sudden urge to lash out, to break something so he can't think, can't feel. His hands clench into fists without his consent. He turns away from her house, forcing himself to walk away from her. This isn't a good time. He's not in control. There's no telling what he could do if...

Then his name rings out behind him. He stops mid-step, his heart catching in his throat. He stands there for a moment, frozen in the middle of the sidewalk. He then takes a deep breath and turns around, quickly back tracing his steps until he ends up right in front of her.

He is quickly assaulted by the signs of her humanity. He can smell the blood, the human blood, running through her veins. He can see her flinch at his sudden appearance, her senses no longer heightened. He can sense her raw vulnerability. But she is also much the same; the curtain of brown hair, the thin, graceful figure, the chocolate of her eyes.

"Damon," she says again. His chest tightens at the sound of her voice, at the sound of his name falling from her lips.

"Elena?" he asks, her name the question he can't put into words. She brings her eyes up to meet his. They are unreadable at first. He holds his breath.

There is a long pause before she speaks again, as if she is searching for words. He feels as if he's balancing on the edge of a cliff, just waiting for someone to push him forward or pull him back.

"Damon I..." Her voice trails off and she turns her head away. He doesn't need to hear anymore. It was in her eyes; he saw it, exactly the way he imagined. There's a roaring in his ears then; he feels himself start to shake. He lunges forward, wanting to grab her, to turn her back towards him, so she can tell it to him straight. His hands reach out, grabbing her firmly, but he had forgotten something in the midst of his emotion. He has forgotten that she is human. The grip that would be firm to a vampire is instead crippling. Before he can stop himself, he feels bone shatter under his grip.

The only thing louder than her scream is the sound of...

And then the dream ends as Damon's eyes fly open, his chest heaving for breath.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Being Selfish

***Thanks for everyone who reviewed so far! Keep telling me what you think. :) I appreciate any feedback!***

After his breathing returns to some semblance of normal, he's able to think more clearly. His eyes travel upward, across the room. Silas is lounging in the corner, one side of his mouth turned up into a half smile.

"You certainly have a...vivid imagination," Damon says, his mouth twisting into a half-smile of his own.

"You enjoyed, I take it?" Silas asks, shifting his weight to his other foot. His eyes dance, dark shadows playing across their depths.

"Immensely," Damon answers. "Although..." His cocks his head as if in thought, "I do believe your technique is lacking something."

"Really?" Silas asks, his tone somehow both cool and skeptical at the same time .

"Don't worry," Damon assures him. "You're just out of practice." A smirk appears across his face. "Being buried alive for a thousand years could do that to you."

"Ha-ha," Silas replies drily. "Very funny."

Damon shows him another grin before pausing to observe the room. It's dimly lit; there is no furniture besides the chair on which Damon is tied to. It's cold, hard steel, bolted to the floor. Damon should have been able to pull free from the flimsy rope tying him to the chair's arms and legs, but he doesn't even try. Silas isn't stupid. Either the chair is spelled or he's sure Damon won't be able to manage an escape. And Damon, despite his built-up tolerance to vervaine, still feels the effects of the herb thrumming through his system. He's not going anywhere.

"So..." Damon says, "I don't really get it."

Silas lifts an eyebrow.

"Remind me again _why_ you wanted to trade me for the cure? Not that I'm complaining," he adds. "I am here after all."

Silas stands up straight at his words, meandering across the room. "What does one do after being enclosed underground for a thousand years?" he asks. "I need some entertainment. And it's not _you_ in particular, it's this..." He waves his hands around, searching for the right word. "It's this...drama that you're involved in. It's already quite interesting." He smiles, almost as if in gratitude.

"Let me take a guess," Damon interrupts. "It reminds you of your own story." He grins devilishly. "The one where your fellow witch gets jealous of your girl, kills her, and then buries you underground for a thousand years. That _has_ to be emotionally scarring."

Silas's expression doesn't change. The smile stays perfectly in place, perhaps turning a little more harsh around the corners.

"I've had a thousand years to get over that. You'd be surprised what you can accomplish in that amount of time."

Damon nods his head in agreement. "Certainly enough time to go completely and utterly insane," he remarks.

Silas shoots him a look.

"Hey," he shrugs, "just telling it like it is."

Silas pauses a moment, deciding wether to take offense, and then laughs. "And you wonder why people don't like you?"

"Trust me," Damon says, "I don't waste my time wondering about what other people think. Or feel."

"Right..." Silas drawls out. "You're supposed to be the bad boy, aren't you?"

"Yep," Damon says, flashing his teeth through a half smile, "that's me."

"And Stefan is the hero. But if he's the hero, where is he? Why is the bad brother sacrificing himself when we all know Stefan is perfectly capable of being the martyr? You really aren't as selfish as you pretend to be." Silas's eyes glint playfully.

"Oh I'm selfish," Damon laughs darkly. "Ask anyone. Ask my brother. I stole his girl from him. I suppose you know that."

Silas shrugs his shoulders. "Only thanks to you. That vervaine made it easy to mess around in your head."

"I noticed," Damon replies drily.

Silas pauses a beat before exclaiming. "I have an idea!" His face lights up gleefully. "How about we call Stefan? See if he wants to join the party?"

"And why in the world would we want to invite him?" Damon asks, his tone full of distaste.

"I don't know..." Silas says, tapping his finger on his chin. He turns towards Damon. "Maybe to give him his chance at being the hero?"

"Trust me," Damon assures him, "he's had enough chances."

"Let's just call him anyway. It'll certainly liven up the drama, yes?" Silas holds up Damon's cell phone, shaking it in the air tauntingly.

"I thought we had a deal," Damon tries, his voice going darker. Deeper. "Just me."

"Ahh..." Silas smiles. "Don't be a hypocrite Damon. When have you ever played by the rules?"

Damon tries to hide his quickly escalating anger. He feels a sudden urge to rip Silas's heart from his chest. It would be a suicidal act, but still. Wasn't that why he was here in the first place? Stefan was not supposed to get involved in this. He would mess it up. Stefan always did. This was the only time he had wanted to do the right thing. The only time, and he wasn't even going to be able to manage that.

There is a reason I'm the way I am, he thinks. Being selfish is just so much easier.

But if he's honest with himself, being selfish has gotten harder and harder since Elena chose him. Actually it had become harder every since that day in her bedroom, the day he had given back her necklace, the day he had admitted that he couldn't be selfish, not with her. He wonders what she will think when she realizes that he not only caused his own death, but Stefan's as well.

That's when Silas turns towards him, still holding the cellphone.

"Oh wait," he says suddenly, "we don't need to call him."

Damon waits, holding his breath, daring to hope.

Silas smirks. "I already did that about thirty minutes ago."

And that's why I never let myself hope, Damon thinks darkly. I always end up disappointed.


	4. Chapter 4: Only So Much

Chapter 4: Only So Much

***Well I couldn't find a good place to stop so this is a long chapter. Hope you like it though! Also, thanks to everyone who has reviewed. Feel free to keep telling me your thoughts!***

Elena doesn't feel any different, not yet. She wishes it was more instantaneous, this cure. She doesn't want to be stuck in this in-between stage any longer. It's making her think too much. At this point, she feels as if she will be disappointed either way. Disappointed if it doesn't work...disappointed if it does. She studies what's let of the liquid in the little bottle. She had made sure not to use too much, trying to leave as much as she could. For Stefan or for Damon, or perhaps for both.

It still feels weird to her that they could both become human. For her, being a vampire is still new. Humanity hasn't become a completely foreign concept for her, nor yet. But for them...they haven't been human in more than a hundred years.

She wishes Damon was here, right now. She wants him, needs him. _Damon,_ she thinks silently, _why aren't you here?_ But she knows. She knows. The memory of their last time alone together rises in her mind, the unbidden answer to her question.

...

She finds him sitting on the couch by the fireplace, an almost empty glass in hand. His ice blue gaze stares in the fire, his eyes dancing with the flames.

"Damon?" she asks.

He had to have sensed her long before, but when he turns to her, his face holds a look of mild surprise.

"Elena," he says. The sound of his voice saying her name had always made her weak in the knees, even from the first day she met him. But something about his voice tonight makes her look across the room for a bottle of liquor. One sits on the end table, empty.

She makes her way towards him then, trying to decide wether to be worried. He drank quite frequently, but something just _feels_ different. She can sense it, just underneath the surface.

"Drink that bottle all by yourself?" she asks him calmly, sliding next to him on the couch.

"Yeah well," he shrugs his shoulders. "I would offer you some, but as you can see its pretty much gone." He laughs a little, the sound holding a dark undertone.

"You could open another bottle, though," he mentions as an afterthought, his tone slightly hopeful. "Have a drink with me."

"I don't think you need any more," she tells him carefully.

He gazes at her seriously before slowly breaking a grin. "Well you're no fun tonight," he drawls, turning away from her. He stares in the bottom of his glass, draining the last sip.

She pauses a moment, the silence stretching as she studies his profile. "Is something wrong?" she asks him finally.

"I take that as a no to the drink?" he asks, ignoring her question. His fingers tap out a rhythm on his glass. Then, a thought occurring to him, he turns to her with a wicked light in his eyes.

"I could just make you, you know," he tells her. "I could invoke the sire bond. Order you to get me another drink." He holds out his crystal glass to her, shaking it back and forth in front of her face. "Tell you to have some fun." A sardonic smile flashes across his face.

"Damon stop," she orders him, her voice quiet but firm as she pushes the glass out of her face.

"But that's how it works, doesn't it?" he taunts her. "I ask, you do. Just like that." He snaps his fingers and then grins at her, his smile sickly sweet.

"Damon!" She stands up abruptly, backing away from him. "What is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with all of us?" He says, sweeping his hand across the room grandly. "We're vampires, Elena. We'll never be _right_ again." His eyes, full of dark humor, dare her to argue.

"I thought you believed there was nothing wrong with being a vampire," she whispers. He's Damon but...but more and less, all at the same time. He frightens her, this version of him. All dark edges and deep shadows.

"There's not, Elena," he tells her, standing up suddenly. "You're a vampire after all and you're... beautiful, stunning, alive." He takes a step closer to her with ever word, his eyes boring into her, heating up her soul. "I like you as a vampire, and I know something about you likes it too."

He shakes his head then, as if he can shake away his thoughts. "But Elena, the problem is, you _can't_ be a vampire. You can't because I let myself f_eel_, Elena." His voice breaks on her name, a sorrowful anger creeping into his words. "You can't be, because some part of me and some part of you will always wonder." His voice is intense and angry and sad and she feels herself breaking apart for him.

"So I'll take the cure, Damon," she tells him, trying to reassure. "I'll take the cure so there'll be no doubt."

He smiles sadly. "Unfortunately, you can't promise me that Elena."

She takes a step towards him, suddenly driven. Uncompromising. "Yes I can!" she tells him through gritted teeth, all pure determination. "I'm promising you, Damon."

He continues on, ignoring her desperate words. "When you where human, Elena, you told me something. You said that it was Stefan, that you'd always choose Stefan. What makes you think that once you're no longer a vampire, once you're human Elena, that you won't go back to that mentality?"

She wants to get mad at him. She wants to scream and shout so he'll believe her. So she can chase away his doubts. But she doesn't. She can't. Instead, she asks something else.

"What if I take the cure Damon and it really, truly works? What if I take it and I choose you?" Her voice, which had gotten louder and louder suddenly drops off. "Will you take it too?"

He laughs sharply. "Didn't I already tell you, Elena? I _like_ being a vampire." He suddenly appears in her face, all that raw power and feeling only a hair breadth's away. Her heart beat starts to rocket, her body frozen, on edge. He is wearing his darkness like a cloak, and it's strangely tantalizing.

"When I'm a vampire," he tells her, "I can be the bad guy. I have an excuse." His words flutter across her face. She has forgotten how to breathe.

"And because I'm the bad guy," he whispers, staring into her eyes "I'm going to do this." He leans in close, his lips hovering above hers. "And you are going to enjoy it."

And then he is kissing her. Some part of her knows that he had just ordered her to enjoy it, but she doesn't care. She would have enjoyed it anyway. He had been trying to keep his distance, both successfully and unsuccessfully, but it had been awhile. A long while.

His kiss tastes like heat and alcohol and sadness and it makes it so very hard to think so she just stops thinking altogether. There's nothing but the fire around her, in her, burning her up and the complete sureness of wanting him. She loves him so honestly and openly and he had never ordered her to do that. Never told her that she had to love him. She is sure. So sure. So she lets passion consume her and him and doubts no longer about the future to come.

...

He is soundly asleep. He looks peaceful when he sleeps, a look she has rarely seen him wear in his waking state. She's jealous of him now. She wishes she could sleep, but she can't. He is keeping her up. There is so much to him, so many corners and secrets and she can't help wanting to know them all. He is so guarded all the time, so careful to wear that cocky smile of his. Even when he tells her things, like tonight, she isn't so sure he's telling the truth. What had he said tonight? _We'll never be right again._ Sure he had told her later that he liked being a vampire. She believed him, believed that was true. But there is more. There must be. The question is tearing her up. She stares at him, a tempting thought rising to the surface. She could just take the answer to her question, steal it from his mind. The thought is wrong, she knows this, but as she stares at his sleeping figure she begins to realize that she doesn't care. She _needs_ the answer.

It doesn't take much more time before she slips into his mind as easily as slipping into water.

...

Elena returns to the present. That is why he isn't here, she thinks. It's because he _wants_. She thinks of what she discovered in his mind, the memory she had experienced. He had been drunk and angry, sad and dangerous that night as well. She had watched as he tore himself apart, as he laid out his soul. All that power, all that darkness.

_I have a secret, _he had whispered, _a big one._ _But I've never said it aloud. What's the point? It's not going to make me good, make me adopt a puppy. _

She had watched as his sadness ate him up, as it consumed him. She had watched and felt her heart breaking in so many different places.

_Do I kill you or do I not kill you?_ He had asked, his blue eyes studying the girl in front of him, the girl caught in the middle of his darkness. Of his crisis. _But I have to Jessica, because I'm not human. And I miss it. _

She had watched him spill out his anguish, watched him break and burn and hurt.

_I miss it more than anything in the world, _he had whispered._ That is my secret. But there is only so much hurt a man can take._

She had watched and she had learned and that is why he isn't here. He isn't here because he wants her and he wants humanity and the two wants don't go seamlessly together. He isn't here because he might get hurt. And, as he had confessed, there is only so much hurt a man can take.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: A Heart to Heart**

**Alright here's chapter five! Sorry it took a little while...life's been hectic. As always, to anyone that left a review: I absolutely adore you! And for anyone who hasn't yet, please review! You'll make my day.**

Damon sighs heavily. "Can we cut the heart-to-heart? I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you...but its getting a bit...old."

"Don't you find this enjoyable?" Silas questions him slyly.

"Enjoyable?" Damon laughs. "I'm tied to a chair, forced into a conversation with a witch of questionable sanity. Not really my idea of a good time."

"Well..." Silas allows, "We can bring this portion of your time here to a close soon, if that's what you want. Just one more question."

"Do I have a choice?"

Silas smiles sweetly. "Not really. Last question... tell me the _real _reason Stefan isn't here sacrificing himself for this cure. Isn't he the one who wanted it for Elena anyway?"

"Stefan isn't here because I didn't tell him." He shares the sentence like its a secret. A joke. Even though its not.

"And why is that?" Silas prods gleefully.

"Because Elena would be furious if she found out what he did just for her to become human. And despite his whole let Elena choose motto, he'd be dumb enough to sacrifice himself anyway." The answer is drug up out of him, against his will. This is stupid. He didn't sign on for this. Why can't Silas just hurry up and kill him? Get the dang thing over with? Preferably before Stefan showed up. Then at least his brother wouldn't get himself killed trying to save him out of some perturbed sense of loyalty. Or guilt.

"And she won't be furious when she finds out what you did?"

"She's used to being furious at me," he laughs sharply.

"It's because you feel guilty, isn't it?" Silas asks.

"For what?" Damon questions, a little too harshly. He never admits to being guilty, ever. Guilt can destroy a person.

"You feel guilty because she loves you. Because of the sire bond. Because you didn't win her fair and square, not really."

"Since when do I worry about fair and square?" Damon smirks.

Silas rolls his eyes. "The truth," he demands.

Damon sighs again. He hates witches and their dang spells. They're worse than vampires. When they push people around, they do it because they feel self-righteous. At least he never pretended to do that. To be righteous.

"I know it's the wrong thing," he says. "It's the wrong thing to be here at all. Elena should have her choice, I know this." His eyes go dark. "But everything else is wrong, too. It's wrong that she loves both Stefan and me. It's wrong that's she's a vampire. It's wrong that she chose me without _really_ getting a choice. And sometimes, when everything else is wrong, the wrong choice becomes the right one. So if it makes me the bad guy, fine. I never was afraid to make the tough decisions. Stefan can't handle them. But I can."

And then he's done saying the words, and he hates Silas for forcing him to say them. Hates him with everything inside. He knows why Silas did this, why he messed around in Damon's head and made him say things he would never, ever admit by choice. Knowledge brings power. Silas knows him better than he knows himself; he can steer him in directions he doesn't want to go.

"I think that's all," Silas gives. "I'll be back soon for phase two." He gives Damon a wicked grin before exiting the room.

...

Damon came to in a whirl of blurring, faded and spinning colors. He blinks twice, trying to make everything come into the focus. His brain feels muddled, foggy. Where is he? How had he gotten here? Everything hurts, from his toes up all the way to his head. When had that happened? He needs some blood, needs it fast. Maybe then he can make sense of it all... A voice suddenly brakes the cycle of thoughts, dredging his mind up from the last holds of unconscious.

"Awake finally?" It takes him a minute for him to place the voice, only because he doesn't understand how Stefan has gotten here. Wherever here is.

"Stefan?" He asks, his voice underlaid by a painful groan.

"Here." Stefan's hand reaches over, holding out a bag half-filled with deep red blood. Damon reaches for it as quick as possible, greedily drinking what is left of the blood in the bag. Immediately, he begins to feel a bit better, although it will probably take a lot more than a half-empty blood bag to return him back to normal. It at least gives him the strength to pull himself up into a sitting position.

He quickly places their position. He's even more confused when he realizes where they are. The world is flashing by the windows; they are in a car. Stefan is driving fast.

"You want to tell me," Stefan demands, "what that was all about?"

Damon turns to Stefan incredulously. "What the?" he asks, swearing. "What do you mean? You know." He wracks his brain, trying to remember Stefan's arrival. Their escape. Anything.

"I know?" Stefan replies. "I'm supposed to know why I got a call from a complete stranger, telling me I better save my brother? I'm supposed to know why I found you tied up in a pool of blood, half-dead? I'm sick of getting you out of trouble, Damon. When are you going to learn to control yourself and the things you get involved in?" There is a cool anger in Stefan's voice as he shakes his head, but his face is blank.

"I didn't ask you to save me, Stefan," Damon says angrily, "but stop playing games with me. You _know_ what this is about."

Stefan takes his eyes off the road long enough to turn towards Damon. "Enlighten me," he says.

Damon's head is still spinning. He wishes he didn't feel so off kilter. He doesn't have enough energy for this, not at the moment. Nothing is making sense. He just spent a large amount of time with a thousand year old maniac witch so Elena could be human. So Elena wouldn't be under his sire bond. So Elena could pick Stefan. And now Stefan was giving him this?

"It's about the cure!" He answers loudly. "For Elena. Who else?" His last two words come out more bitterly than he intended.

Stefan's poker face breaks just for a moment. He almost looks...scared. "Okay," he says, almost as if to himself. "Damon, just relax, okay?" He nods his head to himself.

"Relax?" Damon responds incredulously. "You want me to relax? How about you tell me why your acting like a complete moron? You're part of the reason I did this in the first place!"

"I don't know..." Stefan says carefully, "what exactly you got yourself into but we can get you some...help, okay? I think that..." He trails off, as if unsure if he wants to say what he really thinks.

"Help?" Damon asks. "That's all you can say? I got myself into this because of the cure! What don't you get about that?" He feels hot, unsteady.

Stefan turns to stare at him blankly.

Something is very, very wrong.

"You have your cell phone with you?" Damon quickly demands. He needs some reassurance, needs someone to solidify his reality.

Stefan hands his over carefully, still eyeing Damon as if he will break.

Damon quickly types in her cell phone number, trying to ignore the fact that Elena's name doesn't appear in Stefan's contact numbers.

Her voice answers on the second ring. "Hello?" He feels his escalating breathing slow down, just a bit, at the sound of her voice. She's okay, at least.

"Elena," he says quickly, "I don't know exactly what's happened but..."

"Um excuse me?" she interrupts. "But I don't think I caught your name."

He stops breathing. "Elena," he says, slowly. "It's Damon."

"I'm sorry...Damon? Do I know you?" Her voice is wary, a bit confused. She doesn't know him. She doesn't know him! She doesn't know him and he can't remember Stefan saving him or his last interactions with Silas and they don't remember anything. Anything at all.

He feels his world unraveling.

He's gone insane.

Stefan looks at him worriedly. "Are you okay?" he asks. "Who was that?"

He's going to break something or someone or...

...

The blow rocks him in his chair. Blood fills his mouth. What in the world? Another one, this one harder. His head snaps to the side, his face on fire. His head starts spinning; there's a ringing in his ears.

"Now wasn't that fun?" a voice smiles. "I just love how easy it is to get into your head."

Damon tries to collect his thoughts. The ringing slowly fades away as he heals. A bit of clarity begins to return to him, but he's still off balance. For a second, he is seized by the idea that he doesn't know what reality is anymore. That he isn't sure if this is real or if being in the car with Stefan is. It's nightmarish.

This Silas character is really messing with his head.

He lifts his gaze then, sees Silas advancing towards him.

"Time for phase two," he grins demonically.

Despite himself, Damon feels a flicker of fear.


	6. Chapter 6: One New Message

Chapter Six: One New Message

***Here's Chapter Six! Hope you like it. And thanks so much for the reviews...one certain guest review was really great I'm sure you know who you are, guest reviewer :) And please, if you have a chance, tell me what you think! I love hearing your feedback.***

Stefan is angry. His foot taps the pedal of his car impatiently, and the instrument needle dips into dangerous speeds. He lets it hover there, the world spinning by in a kaleidoscope of colors. What does it matter, after all? It's not like he can..die. He feels the urge to laugh maniacally but quickly smothers it. It disturbs him, how unhinged he feels. This whole situation is literally sending him over the edge.

He curses Damon's name out loud, curses him for starting this mess. They wouldn't even be here in the first place if it wasn't for that wretched sire bond. But then again, she wouldn't be sired if she hadn't freaking died.

He hears Damon's accusing voice echo through the car. It's been burned into his memory since the day she drowned in that truck. _How could you let her die? _He demands. _I would have saved her. Matt would be_ _dead but she would still be alive!_

_ I know!_ Stefan replies angrily, defending himself. _I know, okay? I wish I could go back in time and keep all this from every happening. I wish Elena wasn't a vampire and I wish she wasn't with you and I wish I didn't feel so dang guilty!_

Why does he feel guilty? He doesn't know and it's been driving him crazy. It wasn't just Elena that needed this cure; he needed it too. Because maybe, just maybe, after she was returned to her human state, he wouldn't have to feel so guilty. It wouldn't be his decision that sent her to a life of eternity bound by a sire bound anymore. She would be free and so would he.

She would be free to choose him. Or not.

She had already insisted that Damon was her choice. He knew that he should respect that decision, just like he had respected all her others. But see...she had returned him to happiness. Returned him to himself. How could he forget that? How could he just let her go when that slight uncertainty was still there? When maybe she could still love him like before?

_You are my world, Elena. I can pretend otherwise, but its true. _

_ You're pathetic, _the imaginary Damon smirks.

_If I'm pathetic, _he comments, _than so are you._

In his mind, he sees Damon considering his words. Finally, Damon says only this, _You always make a point to tell the truth when it's least wanted, don't you brother?_

The words aren't real, but Stefan feels them as intensely as if they were. Damon cared, too. Just as much as him. And despite himself, Stefan can't help wanting Damon to be happy, just a bit.

Why in the world did they both have to love the same girl?

...

The effects of the cure are starting to appear, and they are doing so very, very quickly. One moment she is pacing around the room, the next the world twirls around her and she begins to feel dizzy.

It's almost as disorienting as becoming a vampire was, if not more. Becoming a vampire had been all about feeling, the mood swings, the strange feeling of euphoria, the feeling of possible power. This feels more physical, like coming down with the flu. The world spins again and she goes to sit down on the bed. Instead, she misses it completely, tumbling on the floor.

Her perfect balance is failing her.

The sun from the window starts to loose its insistent warmth, and she suddenly feels cold. Her breathing escalates; her heartbeat suddenly rockets out of its steady rhythm.

Is this the cure? Because it doesn't feel like any cure to her. Instead it feels more like...dying.

She has died once after all. She knows what it feels like. It feels like fading. It feels like...

But then her thoughts are stopped in their tracks.

She blinks in confusion. Once. Twice. The room is fading away around her. She watches as the ceiling becomes replaced by blue sky, as the artificial lamp light is replaced by light from the sun. She glances down; her feet are planted on sidewalk. What the? When she looks up, she gives a gasp of surprise. There, right in front of her, is Rebekah. But then, even more startling, she realizes who Rebekah is talking to...an exact replica of herself.

_"What are you doing here?" Elena asks, trying not to snarl. Trying to be civil._

_ "I could ask the same of myself," Rebekah says. "But for some reason, I decided to do someone a favor." She flicks her eyes to the heavens as she talks, sounds rather displeased, almost begrudging._

Is this real? Is she dreaming? She blinks again, trying to make the scene disappear, but it continues on, like a movie without a pause button.

_"And what's that?" Elena asks, narrowing her eyes with suspicion. _

_ Rebekah glares at her before sighing, as if giving in. _

_ "Fine," she says to no one in particular. "Just this once."_

_ She steps closer to Elena, her eyes turning dark and wide as she begins to talk. "You're not going to remember our chat. You aren't going to notice the message on your cellphone until a week from now. And even though you might notice Damon's absence, you will have no urge to look for him or to try to save him. Understand?"_

Her words are clipped, quick. Typical Rebekah. Except that Elena doesn't actually remember her speaking them. Ever.

_"I understand," Elena says, nodding her head. _

The scene fades, placing Elena back in her room.

It only takes her a second to readjust before she realizes with swift certainty what had just occurred. In this aspect, the cure is very much like turning into a vampire. Compulsion is wearing off, even compulsion by an original vampire. She tries to make sense of it. When turning from human to vampire, compulsion wore off because regular vampires couldn't compel other vampires, simple as that. It doesn't make sense for Rebekah's compulsion to wear off; Rebekah could compel anyone, human or vampire.

That must have been what Damon had thought, too.

The thought sends her scrambling for her cell phone. A message. What message had Rebekah been talking about? The world swings around her again; she shakes her head in an effort to make it stand still. She claws her cell phone from her pocket, squinting her eyes to bring the screen into focus. There, just as Rebekah said, is a message. A message she hadn't seen before.

She types in her voice mail password, her fingers shaking. A sense of dread creeps over her as Damon's voice begins to fill the air.

"Elena," he breathes. "I assume you've taken the cure by now." He pauses, as if gathering his thoughts. His voice drops down, becoming quieter. "I also assume...that you've found out what's happened to me by now. What I did." He sighs heavily before continuing. "I just thought that I probably...owed you an explanation. Although," and now he laughs, just slightly, and his voice turns bitter, "I was doing what I always do, being selfish, so that probably doesn't need much explanation at all. I know I should have told you, let you choose. Just..." he sighs again. "Just don't hate me forever, okay? And don't feel guilty. Not about what I'm doing and not about choosing Stefan and not about going on with your life and being happy. This... This is what I wanted."

She can't breathe, can't think. She doesn't know if it's from the cure or from Damon's message or from both.

"So...I guess this is goodbye, Elena. I..." his voice breaks off. When he speaks again, his words are a whisper. "I love you."

No, no, no...this isn't real. Please let this not be real.

" And because I love you, I want you to promise me something. Promise me you'll be happy. Because... I want to get everything you're looking for."

His breathing echoes over the line a beat more before the message ends.

Her heart is breaking, into one million and one little pieces that will never be put back together. Because even though he had never exactly said the words, she knows what he is planning on doing. Rebekah's words echo in her mind, confirming her suspicions. _You will have no urge to go after him or try to save him. _He is going to sacrifice himself for her, for the cure, for Stefan. She doesn't know why or how but it makes sense. She wasn't supposed to hear that message, not right now. Because that...she knows what that was. Damon would't say what he said, wouldn't say it like that, unless he knew that it would soon be the end. _I want you to get everything you're looking for. _His words had came full circle. That was his last goodbye.

_But Elena, _one part of her says, _how do you know that he hasn't already done it? Hasn't already sacrificed himself? _

_ No! _She thinks._ No, I won't let that be true. He's still alive because I'm going to save him. I have to save him..._

She pushes his speed dial number on her phone, listens to it ring. _Come on, Damon, _she wills. _Pick up...Just please pick up..._

The phone rings and rings. Eventually, the call goes to voicemail. She tries to tell herself that it doesn't matter, that the fact that he didn't answer his phone doesn't mean anything.

She needs to get up, to go find him. Somehow save him from whatever was...She starts to push herself up mid-thought, but the move isn't very effective. Her legs are wobbly; she feels incredibly weak.

A terrible thought overcomes her. She can't possibly save Damon; she can't even make it out of her room. She's so unsteady, leaning on the wall for support as she listens to Damon's cell phone instruct her on how to leave a message.

A beep sounds.

"Damon..." she says frantically. Her voice sounds weak, thready. "Damon I don't know... what you are doing but please..." Her voice slips into a quiet, desperate plea. "Please stop. Please just..."

Her words cut off mid-sentence. The ground shifts beneath her and her knees give way. There is no time for her to right the world; it's not possible, not anymore. She sinks down towards the ground, only having time for one soft cry before all the air leaves her chest. Her body thuds against the floor; the cell phone hits moments after. Black washes across her vision, thick and deep. She tries to catch her breath, frantic now, but there's no air to be had. Her mind becomes panicked and scattered but she has time for one last thought.

_I'm dying, _she thinks. _Makes sense, doesn't it? The only cure for immortality is death after all._

She almost feels as if she should laugh, but then there is no more time for laughter. No time, even, for thoughts, only pictures, fleeting glimpses. Her mom's laugh, Caroline smiling down on her, Stephan glancing at her worriedly, Jeremy's voice..._We've lost too many people._ And then Damon, of course Damon. His eyes burn holes into her own; his crooked smile tugs at her heart.

_I'm sorry, _she thinks.

Her chest gives one last shuddering heave upwards; her deep brown eyes close. The heartbeat that was supposed to continue on for an eternity slows. For a moment, the whole world holds its breath...waiting. And then, her heart, ever so gently, comes to a stop. Her body becomes still and the room that had just moments ago been filled with the sounds of her existence becomes full of a deep, resounding silence.

And then three things happen.

One.

Silas hears a beep in his pocket and pulls out Damon's cell phone. He reads the words across the screen.

_One new message. Elena._

A smile grows across his face.

Two

Stephen arrives.

And Three.

Elena's eyes jerk open as she heaves for breath. It's reminiscent of an earlier incident, but this time something is different.

This time she's no longer awaking as a vampire.


	7. Chapter 7: To Zero

Chapter Seven: To Zero

***Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I read every single one, I promise, even though I don't always get time to reply. And please, keep the reviews coming. I love hearing anything you guys have to say :) ***

The world, always so brilliant, so bright and bold, has faded backwards, blending together. Sounds, which should be crystal cut, are distant, as if they are emerging from underwater. Everything, even his thoughts, seems to be tinted with a slight red haze, and whether that red is from blood or anger he doesn't know.

Because Damon is sure he has never been angrier.

It's a deep, dark sort of anger, an anger that stems from the complete and utter helplessness he's feeling. It's an insatiable anger, an all-consuming anger, an anger that he can taste.

He wants to rip Silas' throat from his body. He wants to tear him apart limb from limb, to set him on fire and watch him burn and burn and burn...

He thinks, for a moment, that his anger will give him enough strength to rip free and exact his revenge. That with it, he can do anything, even the impossible. He will rise up; he will...

But then, just like that, the anger starts to fade away. He tries to latch on to it, wanting to keep the fire of hate burning in him as long as possible, but his attempt falls short. The anger is still there, somewhere in the background, waiting, but he can feel it no longer. The fact is, he can't hold on to anything for long, not thoughts and not even feelings. There's a blur surrounding him, a blur colored white hot. He tries not to think of it, because any time he does it brings the that blur into brilliant focus. But the fact is, pain like this is hard to ignore.

He has to to hand it to Silas, he thinks darkly, the witch sure knew what he was doing. He had brought Damon to the very edge and left him there, hovering. His body isn't healing, not anymore, so everything just lasts and lasts.

The anger is gone though, so the thought of Silas' success doesn't invoke the same emotions it would have five seconds ago. Now, the thought just makes him so incredibly tired. His body, rigid with pain, starts to relax. He tries to fight his sudden sleepiness, but only for a moment. The second the blackness of sleep starts to take the edge off, Damon stops struggling, letting the cool liquid of darkness engulf him in one single wave.

...

Stefan really wishes he had more of a plan. He's armed with one thing and one thing only, a syringe full of the cure. He hadn't had time to call Bonnie, and he has a feeling she wouldn't have been able to help him if he had. Silas is a thousand year old witch. And not only that, but Silas has accomplished what was supposed to be impossible, becoming immortal while retaining his witch identity. Bonnie, even with all her dark expression, is very much mortal and is very, very young. Silas would have an answer to anything she would be able to throw at him.

No, Stefan is alone in this.

He sits in his car for a second, gathering his breath. Silas' directions had led him here, to this dark house in the middle of nowhere. It's fitting somehow, that this is where he should be. Silas is something from the past; he doesn't belong in the modern world. Steeling himself, Stefan gets out of the car, shutting the door softly behind him.

Damon would call him idiotic for coming here with no back-up and with no plan to speak of. He would sneer at Stefan's insistence that he had no choice but to come as soon as possible. Stefan knows this, but it doesn't matter, because he also knows that despite Damon's probable disgust, Damon would have done the same thing for him if the roles were reversed. They may hate each other at times, curse each other up and down, but blood runs thicker than anything. Even thicker than their feud over Elena.

So that is why, even though he knows that he is destined for failure in one form or another, he opens the door to the old wooden house and steps in.

The silence is what hits him first. It is so incredibly quiet; even his almost soundless footsteps seem to echo through the house. Inside his jacket pocket, his hand clutches around the syringe, his only defense. It seems so flimsy now, so pointless. However, he doesn't let go of it as he wanders out of the foyer, his senses on super alert. His eyes search the shadows; his ears are fine-tuned for even the slightest sound.

He holds onto the hope that he will get to surprise Silas; it may be his only chance to be on the offense. He taps into his vampire instincts, hoping they will lead him where sense cannot. He lets his predatory sense wash over him, ignoring the fact that he feels more like the prey than the hunter. Surprisingly, the attempt works. The next moment he _feels _someone behind him. It's the same feeling he gets when someone is staring at his back; he doesn't know how he knows someone is behind him, but he just does.

He only gives the feeling a moment to settle in before he whirls around, leaping forward, no time left for thought. He holds the syringe outward like the weapon it rightfully is, aiming it straight for Silas' heart.

But the attack is stopped almost before it starts. The syringe shatters in his hand mid-leap and Silas quickly darts out of the spot Stefan had been aiming for. Stefan is left grasping only air.

"Over here," a voice purrs. Stefan whirls back around. Silas is standing right in front of him. Despite what he knows is the futility of his actions, Stefan leaps for him again, his face twisting into an angry scowl.

Silas makes a tsking sound, sliding easily out of the way. "Don't try again," he scolds Stefan, "I'm older and faster than you. You're only making yourself look stupid." He smiles at the end of his sentence though, as it to take off the edge off his words.

Stefan stands in the spot Silas had just vacated, staring at the ground as the liquid of the cure soaks into the floorboards. He takes a steadying breath. He reminds himself this is no bar fight; he can't let his emotions get the best of him. Then he shoves down his anger, trying to regain his self-control. When he speaks, his voice is level.

"Where's my brother?" His words sound steady and strong.

"Ah," Silas says, making a sound of knowing. "I didn't misjudge you at all. For a moment, I thought I had it all wrong...but nope." He grins. "You didn't disappoint."

Stefan only stares at him.

"You see...I find you supremely interesting." Silas eyes range up and down him, as if his is studying him. "You have this emotional self-control that is quite above and beyond what your brother can manage, but when it comes to the other side of things...Well, let's just say your blood lust isn't quite under control yet."

Stefan flinches, less because of what Silas is saying and more out of surprise and disbelief. How does Silas even know this?

"And the funny thing is," Silas laughs, "your out-of-control brother has the physical side of vampirism well under control, almost down to a science. No wonder you two have a difficult time getting along, you're complete opposites."

Silas takes a step towards Stefan after he finishes his sentence, his steps smooth as flowing water. It's unnerving. For once, Stefan feels like a human...a human witnessing the strange, predatory power of another species.

"Where's my brother?" he asks again between gritted teeth.

"Yes, Damon Salvatore. I suppose you want to see him, to verify that he's here. Don't worry, I'll lead you to him. But first, I'll answer the other question burning in your mind."

Stefan's eyes narrow.

"How do I know all I know?" Silas continues. His voice is lyrical, as if he is enjoying a particularly engrossing conversation. "Quite simple, really. Your brother's mind has been very forthcoming. And I have to say, I couldn't help myself from discovering your whole story. It's really quite entertaining."

Stefan realizes one thing very quickly. Silas is very, very strong. He had just stolen that question from within his mind, and Stefan had been putting up all the walls he could to prevent that from happening.

This will be even harder than he thought.

"Now that we have that out of the way," Silas waves his hand forward, not waiting for Stefan to respond, "let's go visit your brother, shall we?"

He weaves his way through the house, Stefan on his heels. The whole time Stefan tries to think of creative ways to take the witch down, and each time he falls short. His mind is in a frenzy; they need some sort of an escape. Brute force won't do it; Silas is too fast. Trickery won't exactly work either; not if Silas is going to keep peering into his mind.

Hopefully Damon can think of something helpful.

Silas has led them to the back of the house. He starts descending a flight of stairs. Stefan stops for a moment, peering down the flight into a dark, dingy hallway. Silas hears his pause, turning around to face him.

"Come on," he waves, his eyes glistening with excitement. "Down this way."

Stefan shoves down his uneasiness, taking carefully measured steps down into the hallway. Silas doesn't mention his obvious discomfort, only sending him a knowing smile. When Stefan arrives next to him, Silas motions to a door off to their right.

"You can go first," he says politely.

Stefan turns to the door, taking another beat. Then, he reaches out, pushing open the door. It swings inward with a loud, unsettling creak.

"Damon?" He calls, stepping through the doorway.

It only takes him a second to realize why Damon does't answer.

He is assaulted by the sight of red, red everywhere. Such a dark and brilliant color... It's splattered across the room..on the walls, on the floor. A large pool of blood rests underneath the chair containing the very limp form of his brother.

"Shit," he whispers softly to himself.

The chances of their escape just went from less than ten percent to zero.


	8. Chapter 8: playing cards

Stefan's intake of breath hisses between his teeth. He whirls around, turning to face Silas.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demands, his voice bordering on angry.

"This?" Silas' eyes flit around the room, taking in the scene. Finally, his eyes meet Stefan's again, glowing with something like self-satisfaction. "This is for your benefit," he tells him.

"My benefit?" Stefan repeats, incredulous. "This is for _my _benefit?"

Silas only gives him a knowing smile. "Yes," he affirms, "although I can't argue with the fact that it provided me with a little, much-needed entertainment." His eyes scan over the bloody scene again, as if he is assessing his latest masterpiece.

Stefan feels sick.

"All will be explained in a moment," Silas continues, "but first..." He reaches in his pocket, withdrawing a black, slim cell phone. Stefan instantly recognizes it; it's Damon's.

"I received a message from a certain someone named Elena Gilbert," Silas begins conversationally. "As far as I understand, she's a mutual interest of you and Damon, correct? So I was wondering...would you like to hear it?" Stefan's hatred of Silas is growing with every moment. He talks so politely, acts so concerned.

"I don't think Elena needs brought into this," Stefan warns, carefully.

"Oh, I think you'll want to hear this," Silas assures him.

Stefan only stares at him.

"Fine," Silas admonishes, "maybe you don't want to hear this, but unfortunately," he smiles, "you don't have a choice."

Stefan can only watch as Silas' fingers dart across the surface of the phone. Moments later, a message starts to play. A message from _her._

_Damon, _she breaths.

Stefan's mind instantly fills with questions at the sound of her voice. Did she leave this before she took the cure? Or after? What does it mean, that she's calling Damon and not him? Does it mean anything?

_Damon, I don't know..._ Her voice cuts off as she gathers breath. She sounds almost...frantic. _I don't know what you're doing, but please..._

She doesn't sound like he expected her to sound. Not at all. This isn't some confession, not of love or anything else. No, this...this is pleading. She sounds so frantic, so worried. Is it because she's noticed Damon's prolonged absence?

But it doesn't take long for him to figure out that's not the only reason she sounds so hurried, so desperate, so weak.

He feels a pit of dread settle in his stomach. Something is very, very wrong.

He dimly registers the fact that Silas is carefully observing him, watching his every reaction, but that's the last thing on his mind. All he can think about is her thready voice, her pure desperation.

_Please stop, _she begs. She's gasping for air now. A suffocating panic rises up in him, making it hard for him to concentrate on anything but that one thought...the thought that something is horribly wrong.

_Please..._Her words are starting to sound blurry, as if she speaking from underwater. _Please just..._

Her sentence gets cut short then, and there is a loud, cracking sound that emanates through the cell phone speakers. He quickly places it.

She must have dropped the cell phone. The message continues however; he can still hear her labored breathing, even though it now sounds farther away. And he can still hear the sound of a second thud, only moments after the first.

He knows what this one is, too.

It's the sound of her body hitting the floor.

Her ragged breathing continues, closer now. Black dots race across his vision. He needs to do something, anything, to help her...but he can't cross space, and definitely not time. He is forced to stand there, to listen as her breathing starts to become more spaced out, more shallow. And there is nothing he can do when that breathing suddenly and terribly comes to a stop.

A feeling pierces through him, blinding and white hot. He's not sure if it's anger or if it's grief, but its all consuming. He hears her voice echo through his mind..._I need to be alone, Stefan. _She hears Silas say..._I think you'll want to hear this. _ And then there's that thud, that awful thud and her voice, begging...

He leaps forward. There's no longer any need to smother his rage. He lets it grow within him, lets it burn him through and through.

"What did you _do _to her?" he snarls. He manages to grasp Silas this time, and he shoves him backwards into the wall with a strength he didn't know he had.

The hit doesn't phase Silas; he gathers himself together easily. Stefan lunges at him again.

"What did you give her?" he screams. "You killed her! You hear that? You killed her!" His whole body is shaking. Veins pulse around his eyes; his fangs emerge.

"I'm going to rip you apart," he threatens viciously. He throws himself forward, lightening fast, but his advance is stopped mid-air. He looks down in surprise, his legs treading water.

"Sorry," Silas apologizes. "Can't have you believing delusions, now can I?"

Stefan hisses in answer, his mouth drawn back around his teeth. "Answer me!" he shouts, even though he's in no position to be making demands. "Answer me!" For a moment, his face breaks; his eyes become full of grief. "What did you _do?_" He asks brokenly.

Silas shakes his head. "I just heard this wonderful little quote," he begins in answer, "Assuming makes an ass out of you and me." He chuckles, delighted, his mouth turning up in a perverse version of a smile.

"So you're telling me," Stefan whispers through gritted teeth, "that you had nothing to do with that? With..._her_?!" His last word ends up being hopelessly, ridiculously loud.

"Well..." Silas lets his voice trail off tauntingly. "About that..."

Then a phone rings. Damon's phone. Stefan's breath catches in his throat; his eyes widen, instantly fixing on the phone still in Silas' grip.

Silas looks slightly surprised as well, and Stefan can't quite decide wether its real or acted.

"A phone call," he says to himself. "And I wonder who it could be?" He pulls the cell phone up to his ear as Stefan watches from mid-air.

"Hello?" he says, his eyes darting towards Stefan. "It's for you," he mouths, cocking one eyebrow. The next second, Stefan's body plummets to the ground. He lands on his feet, limbs tingling. Silas holds out the phone expectedly, and Stefan warily reaches out for it.

"Hello?" He asks carefully.

"Stefan?"

At the sound of her voice, he feels his heartbeat grind to a stop. Is this...real?

"I got your message," he chokes out. "I thought..."

She interrupts him. "I'm fine, Stefan. I'll explain later. I just need to know...where's Damon?" She starts to talk faster, her words tripping over one another. "Why do you have his phone? Are you with him? Is he okay? Stefan, he left this message and I..."

Then Silas snaps his fingers and the line ends in a bunch of popping and crackling static.

Stefan looks up at Silas, not sure wether he should be relieved or angry. All the emotion he's been feeling churns together until he can't even see straight.

"What are you doing?" he asks finally, hiding all his emotions carefully back within. "What do you _want, _Silas_?_"

"I think you should sit down," Silas says soothingly. "You've just had a big shock."

Stefan's eyes harden. "You've had you're fun, Silas," Stefan voices. "Just tell me what you want so I can get my brother and go."

"No," Silas waves his finger at him, "I think you need to sit down."

"I'll do whatever you want once you tell me what I'm doing here." Stefan's cool distance has returned. He had just learned how quickly Silas could ruin him and he couldn't take it. He had to get out of here. He had to.

Silas' voice is starting to loose its liquid gentility. "Sit. Down."

Stefan doesn't move. "I'm done playing your games, Silas," he says simply.

"Fine," Silas responds coldly. "I'll make you play." He walks over to the unmoving form of Damon and leans down to his ear.

"Wake up, Damon," he says in a sing-song voice.

Stefan watches through narrowed eyes as Damon's eye-lids begin to open, his body stirring a little in its restraints.

What is Silas doing?

"Come on," Silas urges. "All the way, please." Damon's eyes come open half-way, his mouth twists into a painful grimace as he pulls his body up from its slumped position. Stefan watches as his eyes begin to scan the room, landing suddenly on him.

"What...are you doing here?" Damon demands. His voice is more hoarse than normal, a little more labored, but it still holds the contempt Stefan had always known it would. Damon did not want to be saved.

...

He had been having a dream. He isn't sure wether it had been particularly good or bad, but it had been better than the painful half-consciousness he had endured before that. But now...now he is being pulled roughly awake. He doesn't want to awaken, but his eyes open against his will. The pain from his half-healed wounds sneaks back in again, but for once, it's the last thing on his mind.

No, all he can think about is the form of his brother, standing right in front of him. A wave of disgust fills him. So Silas had called in the reinforcements, he thinks. Great.

"What...are you doing here?" His words, though not as snappy as he would like them, sound properly full of distaste. The last thing he needs is for Stefan to start feeling sorry for him and do something they would both regret.

"I might ask you the same thing," Stefan replies, eyes carefully guarded. Silas stands over his shoulder, observing expectedly. Damon attempts to keep his disgust off his face but doesn't know if he quite succeeds. He hates that idiot witch. He silently vows to himself that if for some reason he survives this, he will employ someone to stake him before he reaches a thousand years old. A thousand years is much too long.

That's when he remembers Stefan, still waiting for his reply.

"Someone had to do the dirty work," Damon quips, trying to laugh. He quickly ends that pursuit because the pain it causes costs more than the laugh is worth, and its making Stefan look at him like he's going to break.

"Stefan here," Silas says, interrupting their conversation, "is refusing to follow simple instructions."

Damon eyes the two. "Are they your instructions?" he inquires.

"Of course their mine," Silas snaps.

Damon raises one eyebrow. Maybe he is actually getting somewhere.

"Then good for him," he says, giving Silas his best snarky smile. The reaction he had hoped for doesn't appear. Silas just appraises him, his eyes calculating.

"It may be good for him," Silas comments, his voice once again smooth, "but it's unfortunate for you."

Damon only has time for a small amount of confusion before a wooden bullet slams into his leg.

The hit takes him totally by surprise, and he doesn't have time to prepare himself. His back arches in the chair from the shock; his cry of pain escapes his throat against his will before softening into a moan. For a moment, the world goes hazy.

Elena appears in front of him.

_Damon,_ she whispers. _Damon._ Her eyes meet his, full of worry.

_Damon..._

And then Silas' voice cuts through his head.

"Stay with me, Damon," he warns. His words drag Damon back up from the brink of unconsciousness; the form of Elena drifts away like smoke. He gasps for breath as he tries to compose himself; he feels both Silas' and Stefan's eyes on him.

"That..was a...low blow," he finally manages. Stefan is staring at him, trying to keep his cool, but Damon has known him long enough to recognize the horror in his eyes. Hoping to take the edge of his unfortunate display of weakness, Damon attempts to turn up one of the corners of his mouth. It doesn't really help, though. Stefan is still looking at him just like before.

Silas really knows how to play his cards.


End file.
